


Love From Last Night

by strange_seas



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Actor!AU, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_seas/pseuds/strange_seas
Summary: Bookworm Kyungsoo has a drunken one night stand with a guy from a club. Turns out the guy is an A-list actor—and the nation's heartbreaker.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal on March 25, 2014. Title taken from "Under Attack" by Shy Girls. Written to that song, and to "Still Not Falling" by the same artist, whom you can listen to here. FYI, the complete lyric goes: _Love at first sight is better than love from last night_ :)

There is a quiet comfort to Saturday nights that Kyungsoo has always relished. Nine times out of ten, he'll stay in. Just bolt the door, boil a pot of spicy ramyun with an egg and fresh scallions in it, and indulge his solitary nature. His one-bedroom flat cocoons him like a warm blanket; a safe, familiar haven in which he can curl up for hours, reading.  
  
Sometimes, when he's feeling sociable, he'll whip up something that doesn't pour out of a packet and invite his friends over. Jongdae and Baekhyun are the perfect dinner companions--endlessly funny, perfectly raucous, at ease around all people. Nothing like him, in other words. But they'd all grown up together, gone to all the same schools, and moved out at the same time after graduation, so he's used to their noise. He almost likes it.  
  
He should also be used to their weekend whims by now; their penchant for dragging him to places he'd never go otherwise. Because it's a lovely Saturday evening, the blue-black kind best spent with tea and a tome--and yet Kyungsoo finds himself crowded into a smoky club, dance music like gunfire to his ears.  
  
He's spent the better part of the last two hours hiding in a padded booth, beer bottle held protectively in front of his face. Jongdae and Baekhyun have long abandoned him for their makeshift dates--two girls in identical crop tops and tiny skirts they've managed to scoop off their barstools and usher onto the dance floor.  
  
That makes four people, Kyungsoo counts--four ridiculously uncoordinated, full-grown people who make "grinding" look like light morning exercise for seniors.  
  
The electro-fied remix of a '90s hit has gotten so loud, the secondhand shame so thick, he doesn't realize how drunk he is. There are six empty bottles on the table, the entire collection his. He knows this because his friends were busy doing soju bombs at the bar to lure in their prey, while he watched, slit-eyed, from a distance. Now, everything is pounding (his head, the music). So much so, that Kyungsoo finds it absolutely necessary to stumble out of his leather-upholstered cave and hunt down some peace and quiet.  
  
There's a flight of stairs over to his left, which Kyungsoo convinces himself is his chance for escape (although he vaguely remembers the mouth of the club being a walk  _up_ , not  _down_ ). A burly heap of bouncer stands at the bottom of the staircase, and the dregs of Kyungsoo's common sense tell him this might not be the exit, after all. But then there's a screech, and a patch of sequined girls tumble over in a glittering wave, and the bouncer is leaving his post (quite calmly) to pluck them off the ground.  
  
"We've got a spill," the big guy calls out.  
  
Kyungsoo trudges up the stairs serenely, barely registering the hullaballoo. His sneakers squeak on the plexiglass steps--left, right, left, right. It's the only sound his spinning senses can discern, and he keeps himself steady by clamping onto the metal railing. When the steps end, there's only a heavy black curtain to rustle aside, and Kyungsoo finds himself not on the street, but in the VIP lounge.  
  
He looks around him in a haze. The effects of the beer have turned his eyelids to lead, so he only sees the room in fragments. Deep violet walls. Blink. Glass lamps, glass tables. Blink. A long, expensive-looking couch with a young man seated on it. Blink, blink.  
  
"Hello," says the stranger, voice hoarse from disuse. A rock glass with an inch of golden liquor in it rests on his knee. The hand around the glass wears a platinum band on its ring finger.  
  
"H-hi," Kyungsoo slurs in response. "I'm just--"  
  
"Are you lost?" The stranger fiddles with his drink, thumb tracing strips of condensation off the cheek of the glass.  
  
Kyungsoo tries to explain that he's just looking for the way out, and this clearly isn't it, and he's sorry for barging in. But what he says instead is, "I'm really drunk."  
  
The stranger leans his head to one side. "Me, too." He takes a draught of his liquor and swallows with a soft hiss. "Do you want to hide out here?"  
  
"Yes," Kyungsoo replies on auto-pilot. He's so wasted. "Just for a while."  
  
The stranger gestures to the expanse of empty couch next to him, and Kyungsoo is walking over with measured steps and sinking into the plump white cushions. This place is fancier than downstairs; cleaner, too. It's not exactly quiet, but this is probably the most peace he's going to get in a bumping Hongdae club.  
  
The stranger drains his drink and sets it down with a clatter.  He yanks off the couple ring and drops it into the glass. Then Kyungsoo senses a dip in the couch, and the stranger is shimmying closer to him, slow with inebriation, until they are side by side.  
  
Kyungsoo's eyelids still feel like there are anchors attached to them. He labors to prop them open for more than a few seconds at a time. But up close like this, the metallic fragrance of good scotch and cheap beer mingling between them, there's no mistaking it: the guy is gorgeous. It's a terrible kind of beauty--the kind that makes even the most seldom-used libido flare up without fair warning. Kyungsoo feels the licks of heat against the base of his stomach and gulps.  
  
"I'm Jongin," the stranger murmurs. Kyungsoo can't explain why the way he says it makes it sound like the most obvious thing in the world. His dark hair is raked off his forehead in a devilish rumple, skin the palest alloy of bronze. He wears a V-neck sweater, tight trousers, and pristine dress shoes--all black, all perfectly innocuous. But Kyungsoo finds the whole outfit astonishingly lewd.  
  
"I'm really, really drunk," he answers stupidly.  
  
"Not as drunk as me," the stranger--Jongin--replies. His tongue skates out to wet the corner of his mouth. "I haven't done anything like this in so long."  
  
"Done what?" Kyungsoo mutters. But Jongin has already closed the distance between them: a quick slam of lips to shut him up, followed by a languid, drawn-out web of tongues and teeth.  
  
Everything after that is a blur.  
  
"Let's go to your place," he hears Jongin say.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Kyungsoo doesn't know how they're suddenly on the sidewalk, Jongin's fingers loose around his wrist. Then they're in a cab, Jongin's palm a promise on his thigh. In the elevator of Kyungsoo's apartment building, they keep their hands in their pockets, the CCTV winking above them. Finally, they're pushing into Kyungsoo's flat, and Jongin's tipping him backwards, one hand on Kyungsoo's nape and the other scrabbling at the zipper of his jeans.  
  
"Condom," Kyungsoo pants as Jongin makes out with his neck.  
  
"Pocket," Jongin mumbles around his Adam's apple.  
  
Kyungsoo remembers the crinkle of the package when he fished it out of Jongin's pants, the heat of Jongin's hand when he took it from him, the brush of Jongin's fingers above the waistband of his underwear. And eventually, Jongin's chest against his back, and Jongin's breath on the sensitive spot behind his ear, and Kyungsoo's own voice a surprise, low and longing and letting on more than he bargained for.  
  
When he wakes up the next morning, his sheets are indecently crumpled, and his hangover is bone-deep. There's his hoodie on the floor, there's his T-shirt, his scrunched-up jeans, one sock, his briefs (Kyungsoo blushes)--a zigzag trail of discarded clothing leading from the front door to the foot of his bed. He still has the other sock on underneath his blanket, and he's alone.  
  
Later, after he's had a hot shower and a bowl of limp soup, Kyungsoo empties out the trash. That's how he finds the used rubber, knotted expertly at the top.  
  
  
  
  
"You had a one night stand?!" Baekhyun screams.  
  
"We should take you out more often!" Jongdae exclaims.  
  
"Shut up," Kyungsoo groans. "Why do you have to be so loud in the morning?"  
  
"It's three o'clock!" his friends cry out at the same time.  
  
"Shut  _up_." Kyungsoo buries his head in his arms. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."  
  
They're at the novelty diner near Kyungsoo's apartment. It's a retro place they frequent on Sundays, thick with the smells of bacon and coffee. A pleasant, middle-aged waitress replenishes their mugs from a stainless steel pitcher. Behind her, on the counter, there's a small television set playing a KBS program.  
  
"You dark horse," Jongdae says, his tone admiring. "I didn't know you had it in you."  
  
Baekhyun is nodding along in amazement. "How long's it been? Two years?"  
  
"Two and a half," Jongdae corrects him. "It was fall when he broke up with the last guy."  
  
"How do you even  _know_ that?" Kyungsoo wails. He shakes his head, keeping the movement tiny. "I don't care. Just please,  _please_ , shut up."  
  
The two lower their voices to stage whispers. Jongdae says, "I'm pretty sure this was his first one night stand. Like, in his life."  
  
"Right?" Baekhyun hisses. "Did you see who it was?"  
  
Jongdae bugs out his eyes. "How? We were with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb all night!"  
  
" _You're_  Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb," Kyungsoo mutters lamely. "You look so stupid when you dance. Ugh."  
  
"Don't be rude," Baekhyun tells him blithely. "Besides, those girls were totally into it."  
  
"Now tell us about your sexcapade," Jongdae whines. "This  _never_ happens."  
  
Kyungsoo grunts. The soreness in his head has spread out to the rest of his body; the combined effect of the heavy drinking and…what came afterwards. "I don't know--I was really plastered. Like, I got lost, and then I sat down, and he kissed me and suddenly we were in my apartment, and then we…you know."  
  
"Boned?" Baekhyun supplies helpfully.  
  
"Got up  _in_ it?" Jongdae busts out a complementary body roll.  
  
"Guys," Kyungsoo sighs.  
  
"What's his name?" Jongdae pries Kyungsoo's phone from his fingers. "Did you get his number?"  
  
"Jongin." Kyungsoo finally straightens up, scratching at an eyebrow. "And no, I didn't."  
  
"Whaaat." Baekhyun wears the expression of a disappointed father. "Did he get yours?"  
  
"Like I told you earlier, he was gone when I woke up."  
  
Jongdae clucks his tongue. "That's not cool. I would have at least said thank you."  
  
"I'm not a prostitute," Kyungsoo grits out in monotone.  
  
"You're just a whore," Baekhyun quips, wiggling his eyebrows. When Kyungsoo retaliates with a smack to his crown, the jokester relents. "Kidding, kidding! Geez. Can you at least tell us what he looks like?"  
  
Complete silence. Crickets, really.  
  
Baekhyun pouts. "Aw, come on, Soo, it was just a joke." He prods his friend in the arm, like a puppy begging for food.  
  
But Kyungsoo isn't angry--he's distracted. His eyes have glued themselves to the TV, round as saucers, so every bit of white shows.  
  
"What are you looking at?" Baekhyun swivels around in his seat to see for himself.  
  
Jongdae cranes his neck and squints. "Kai Kim?"  
  
It is, in fact, the actor, Kai Kim, being interviewed amidst a mob on  _Guerilla Date_. In Ray-Bans, a striped pullover, and dark denims, he's as dapper as any top star in civilian mode gets. The field of people presses in, smartphones set to record--but it seems Kai Kim isn't claustrophobic. He looks comfortable and unperturbed, hands clasped behind his back as he trades jokes with the male host.  
  
"You know who he is?" Baekhyun directs to Kyungsoo, looking doubtful. "You don't watch TV, much less go to the movies."  
  
"Who cares," Jongdae cuts in. "Spill about this Jongin already."  
  
The truth dawns on Kyungsoo incrementally, jamming in his throat before dripping down, down, down, into the pit of his stomach. He scalds his tongue on his coffee. "Shit," he says. "That's him!"  
  
  
  
  
Four train stops away, near one of Seoul's historic palaces, there's a small bookstore slotted in between a pottery studio and shop that sells parasols. This is where Kyungsoo works. In fact, he owns the place.  
  
Do Specialty Books is painted a dusty blue on the outside, buttermilk white on the inside, with worn wooden floorboards and a large store window that takes up almost the entirety of its facade. It carries hardbound Korean translations of Western classics--Austen, Tolstoy, Hemingway, the Brontës, Shakespeare. Kyungsoo makes it a point to stock the most beautiful and unique covers available for each volume, so the buffed shelves look like they're displaying modern art.  
  
He's not exactly rolling in dough, but business is steady, and every other walk-in becomes a return customer. Many of them are Korean bookworms who, like him, devour anything well-written. He's even got a niche market of foreigners (students, expats) who use these translated books to master the language; familiar plotlines surfacing in the rounded characters and clipped syllables of hangul.  
  
It's not an exciting life, by any means. Kyungsoo can time exactly when the elderly couple with matching wire frames will arrive every Wednesday and buy one book together, after almost an hour of browsing. He recognizes the pack of giggling foreign girls who traipse in twice a month and rack up a few novels each ("For our lit class at Yonsei," the redhead once informed him). He knows the neighborhood residents who drop in on a daily basis by name; they small-talk about the weather and ask about his new shipments. Mr. Jang is fond of the American writers ("Straight to the point," he always tells Kyungsoo). Mrs. Woo prefers romance, and will shyly inquire if he has anything else like  _Pride and Prejudice_.  
  
His friends don't get it. They're all in their mid-twenties, and Baekhyun and Jongdae both work at a radio station as junior producers. In comparison to their work stories filled with idol run-ins and star-studded selcas, Kyungsoo's job just seems so  _boring_. They can't understand why he's "shutting himself in a cave of ancient books" (Baekhyun) when he can work as a literary agent at one of Seoul's big publishing houses and "make a mountain of money out of his molehill of an English degree" (Jongdae). Especially since, according to Baekhyun, "Chicks dig cool jobs. I mean, dudes. Right?"  
  
Their jibes fall on deaf ears, because Kyungsoo actually likes his quiet life. The predictability of the routine, the rareness and smallness of change, and the comfort of the bookstore's clean walls and lovely, papery scent are just right for him. The perfect fit.  
  
Of course, when Kai Kim swans into Do Specialty Books, almost two weeks after their infamous liaison, it is not a perfect fit.  
  
There is a movie star walking around Kyungsoo's tiny bookstore, lingering at the bestsellers table, practically haloed in the light from the window. Kyungsoo has always put more stock in books than in films, but this movie star is dismayingly handsome, and he's seen Kyungsoo without his clothes on, and vice versa.  
  
Kyungsoo gets a murky flash of the stranger's rumpled hair descending below his hips, and he starts to sweat.  
  
Kai Kim--Jongin,  _whoever_ \--turns to him for the first time since entering. "Excuse me, do you have this book, Anna Kar…something?" His tone is celebrity-polite, his eyes inquiring. Nothing about him betrays any knowledge of who Kyungsoo is.  
  
"Anna Karenina?" Kyungsoo answers slowly, grimacing when his voice cracks. He clears the cobwebs from his throat. "Is that what you're looking for?"  
  
"By Leo Tolstoy?" The movie star pronounces the name with difficulty, tongue sluggish over the unfamiliar syllables.  
  
"Yes, that's it." Kyungsoo slides out from behind the counter and walks to the bookshelf marked with a quaint wooden "T." All the authors are kept in alphabetical order this way. His fingers hover momentarily in front of the shelf before he spots the correct spine and pulls it out. The gentle sound of the cover scraping against the book in front of it does not calm him today the way it usually does.  
  
"Here you go," he murmurs, handing the novel over.  
  
"Great," says the movie star, cracking it open to a random page. "How much?"  
  
The moment he's paid, and Kyungsoo has wrapped  _Anna Karenina_  in brown paper and a piece of twine, Kai Kim leaves.  
  
The moment Kyungsoo sinks into his seat behind the counter in relief, Kai Kim is back.  
  
"Um," he says tentatively, stalking up to the counter, and Kyungsoo just  _knows_ that he knows. "I've met you before."  
  
"Oh," Kyungsoo replies.  
  
"Yeah." The movie star observes him a moment before breaking into a cautious grin. "Do you remember me?"  
  
Kyungsoo tries a poker face on for size. "You're Kai Kim," he offers up weakly.  
  
"Yikes. Who told you that?" The other's expression turns curious. "I could've sworn you didn't know who I was when we met at the club."  
  
Kyungsoo flushes painfully red, and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck just as his head dips.  
  
Kai Kim laughs, like he's actually charmed. Leaning on his elbows over the counter, he peers into Kyungsoo's downturned face. "So you really didn't know! Don't be embarrassed." He pokes Kyungsoo in the arm until the latter flicks up his eyelids. "Call me Jongin, okay? That's my real name. Kim Jongin."  
  
"Okay," Kyungsoo mumbles, the blood steeping in his cheeks.  
  
Jongin licks the corner of his mouth, and Kyungoo realizes it's more of a habit than a come-on. "Listen, I'm sorry I left--you know, without saying goodbye." He scratches a point on his long, smooth neck, looking sheepish. "I was a bit overwhelmed. My boyfriend had just broken up with me. And I hadn't had a--" his voice drops, "--one-night stand. In a long, long time."  
  
"Oh," Kyungsoo says, well-aware that he's just recycling his responses. He decides not to mention that that was the only one-night stand he's ever had. Ever.  
  
"I hope you didn't think I was a douche. Although I wouldn't blame you." Jongin cocks his head to the side, fishing for an answer. "Did you think I was a douche?"  
  
It's strange, how touched Kyungsoo feels, considering the circumstances. "No," he answers, determined to play it cool. "It was just sex, Jongin."  
  
The way the movie star looks at him--surprised, almost impressed--makes Kyungsoo feel like he's won some sort of prize.  
  
"You never actually told me your name," Jongin says casually.  
  
"Kyungsoo," the bookstore owner tells him. "Do Kyungsoo."  
  
  
  
  
By the time Jongin leaves the bookstore (for the second time), he's saved Kyungsoo's number into his smartphone and extracted a promise from the other to hang out sometime.  
  
"I'm shooting a movie in Changdeokgung Palace. The Joseon version of  _Anna Karenina_ ," he mentions. "So I'll be around here a lot."  
  
It's only a few days later that Kyungsoo gets his very first text message from a movie star.  
  
_Hey! It's Jongin. We started filming in the palace today._  
  
_Nice,_  Kyungsoo sends back, the whole thing a little surreal.  
  
His phone buzzes immediately with a response.  _You text exactly the way you talk._  
  
_What do you mean?_ Kyungsoo asks, intrigued.  
  
The reply is only two words:  _Not enough._  
  
Kyungsoo's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But as he formulates his next message--something equally calm and brief, to keep up appearances--his phone buzzes again.  
  
_Can I swing by the bookstore around closing? We're only filming until dinnertime today._  
  
It takes an hour for Kyungsoo to reply to that--an hour spent thinking of what he's getting himself into. But when he finally presses send, the message reads:  _Sure, see you._  
  
  
  
  
Jongin arrives at a quarter to nine. Kyungsoo has already flipped the sign on the door to read "Closed." When the bell at the entrance tinkles, he flutters with nerves.  
  
"Hi," Jongin greets him with a smile. His face is bare, bangs damp and loose over his forehead, like he's just washed his makeup off. "Ready to eat?"  
  
From behind the counter, Kyungsoo's smile is a tentative one. Even so, he's surprised at how he doesn't feel as awkward as the last time they spoke. "Just finishing up here."  
  
While he waits, Jongin loiters around the bookstore, trailing his fingers over the hardbounds and regarding the neat shelves with appreciation. "I love this place," he murmurs.  
  
"Thank you," Kyungsoo says with genuine pleasure. "But it must be a bit shabby compared to where you usually spend your time."  
  
Jongin cocks his head in disagreement. "It's not shabby. It's simple. And elegant. Kind of like you."  
  
The compliment is unexpected, and Kyungsoo glances up in wonder. But Jongin's already flipping through a book, distracted.  
  
_These actors,_  Kyungsoo thinks to himself.  _They sure know how to turn on the charm._  
  
The movie star drives them both to a tiny pizzeria tucked somewhere in Apgujeong's maze of back alleys. But Jongin seems to come here a lot, since he automatically maneuvers into a nearby basement to park his luxury sedan. The restaurant is filled with foreign patrons, who look curiously in Jongin's direction but leave it at that. The graying Italian gentleman who owns the joint speaks in accented Korean and calls Jongin by his stage name.  
  
"Long time no see, Kai-gun!"  
  
"Table for two, please, Gianni."  
  
They share a quattro formaggio and a margherita, washing down the slices with glasses of rosé. Not too many, though. Jongin actually jokes, "Remember what happened last time," and Kyungsoo has to remind himself that he's going for cool and casual,  _cool and casual, Kyungsoo._  He tosses out a grin attached to a shrug and ignores the heat unfurling at his nape.  
  
They sit and eat and talk until way past midnight. Jongin asks Kyungsoo about his family, his favorite authors, what kind of music he likes to listen to, and how he spends his free time. When they get to the subject of movies, and Kyungsoo bashfully tells him, "I haven't seen anything you're in," Jongin laughs wholeheartedly.  
  
"I figured," he says, popping a piece of crust into his mouth. "It's refreshing."  
  
Through a few questions of his own, Kyungsoo discovers that Jongin is playing Count Vronsky in his new film--or, at least, the Joseon period counterpart of Count Vronsky. The role of Anna Karenina is being filled by Im Yoona, an actress so celebrated and inescapable in Korean advertising, even Kyungsoo knows who she is.  
  
"Wow," he says, when Jongin mentions her name. "She's pretty."  
  
"Yes, she is," Jongin replies, but there's something off in his tone.  
  
"Is she nice?" Kyungsoo asks, trying to get to the bottom of it.  
  
"She was." Jongin pauses to reconsider, but ends up spilling the truth. "We went out a few years ago. By the end of it, she wasn't so nice anymore."  
  
"Maybe you broke her heart."  
  
Jongin huffs at that. "No, actually. She started seeing the CEO of my agency a few weeks before we broke up. I found out on the news, days after. Same time the rest of the country did."  
  
For once in his life, Kyungsoo wishes he kept abreast of celebrity gossip. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about this stuff, I didn't realize--"  
  
"No, no, it's fine." Jongin waves away his concern. He feeds Kyungsoo one of his screen idol smiles. "Don't mind me. I feel like I'm so used to people calling me some variation of a lothario. It just felt strange, hearing it from you."  
  
Kyungsoo revs up another apology, but Jongin cuts him off by ruffling his hair.  
  
"Want to know about my other scandals? They're pretty juicy." The actor wiggles his eyebrows. "After Yoona, I dated Krystal from f(x). She was really sweet, but her group went on tour a lot, so we kind of fizzled out. Then, after Krystal, there was Lee Taemin, the ballet dancer. He's still one of my good friends, even though we aren't fooling around anymore." He pauses for a split-second. "My last relationship was with this other actor, but judging by your track record, you probably wouldn't know him."  
  
"Who was it?" Kyungsoo asks anyway.  
  
"Lu Han. He's Chinese." Jongin searches his face for signs of recognition. "Messy breakup. But you already knew that."  
  
"That's quite a lot of scandals," Kyungsoo says noncommittally.  
  
"I know. But it's not like I jump from bed to bed, like all the tabloids say." The movie star's mouth sets in a determined line. "I date a lot, but I only sleep with the people I'm in a relationship with."  
  
"Except me," Kyungsoo murmurs before he realizes that it's slipped out. He claps a hand over his mouth instantly, eyes the size of twin moons.  
  
Jongin looks taken aback, but then he cackles. "You got me there." When the guy leans unapologetically into his personal space, Kyungsoo has to hold himself steady so he doesn't flinch. "For the record, you were my first drunken hook-up since high school."  
  
"Right," Kyungsoo ekes out, biting down the urge to ask about the others. "My pleasure?"  
  
"Mine, too," Jongin says, his tone matter-of-fact. It's almost platonic. He raises his wine glass in a cheerful toast, and Kyungsoo wonders if this means they're friends now.  
  
  
  
  
Apparently, it does, because Jongin texts him every single day for the next month. It's usually a joke he's relaying from the set, or a complaint about the itchy costumes, or something silly like,  _Yoona smiled at a bunch of fans with kimchi in her teeth. LOL._  
  
The actor also takes to dropping by Do Specialty Books when he's got a break from filming. Once, he waltzes in in the middle of the day and causes a downright stir along the length of street. Kyungsoo stays calm, even as a crowd pushes aggressively into his quiet store and knocks over a few novels. But he pretends he doesn't know the beautiful-famous-person, and only bows when an apologetic Kai Kim rights the fallen books.  
  
Jongin wises up after that. He schedules his drop-ins for first thing in the morning, as Kyungsoo retracts the protective metal grills, or last thing in the evening, when Kyungsoo has just locked the register.  
  
They go for more meals--at Gianni's, at other tiny, hidden gems scattered across Seoul.  
  
"I like my privacy," Jongin explains the second time they forego Italian; this time, for Indian. The restaurant is even smaller than Kyungsoo's apartment, and they are the only Koreans in the place.  
  
"I know," Kyungsoo replies. "Me, too."  
  
He's gotten pretty comfortable around the movie star. There are times when he completely forgets the circumstances of their first meeting, the dormant heat that invaded his belly. Now, their rapport is easy and polite; somewhere between the lines of old college friends and new work acquaintances. Kyungsoo assumes that's why Jongin keeps coming to see him. It must be hard to make a real friend in show business.  
  
When they pay for their food, he is no longer too shy to let Jongin foot the bill.  
  
"But I'm the one who invited you," the actor protests.  
  
"It's not like this is a date," Kyungsoo reasons, already handing his cash to the Indian woman behind the counter. She smiles at him as she recites her spiel ("I've received 15,000 won"). She peers with interest at Jongin, who is still holding out his credit card. He doesn't say a word.  
  
"Besides," Kyungsoo tacks on, "you forget I'm a successful businessman. I can pay for my own curry."  
  
The restaurant is only a block from Kyungsoo's apartment, so he waves away Jongin's offer to drop him off. They say goodnight on the sidewalk, reeking of spices, the restaurant's facade a glow of magenta behind them.  
  
Just as Kyungsoo spins on his heel, Jongin calls out, "Wanna come to a party with me next Saturday?" The actor breaks into an unsure smile. "I wish I could lie and say it's going to be a small, intimate thing, but it's not. You'd hate it."  
  
"That's a weird way to invite someone to a party," Kyungsoo says.  
  
Jongin chuckles, but he still looks less assured than usual. "It wouldn't be so bad if we went together."  
  
"It wouldn't be so bad…for me? Or for you?"  
  
"Both."  
  
It's practically in Kyungsoo's DNA to stay in on weekends, to shy away from unfamiliar situations and strangers--what more a shiny crowd of celebrities. So he doesn't know what comes over him, or why his reliable heart skips a tiny, treacherous beat, when he says, "Okay, I'll come."  
  
  
  
  
"Is this seat taken?"  
  
Kyungsoo looks up from his phone and sees a tall, tall man leaning over him.  _Model,_  Kyungsoo thinks to himself, taking in the proud nose, jutting cheekbones, and dapper coif. Had it not been for the uncertainty in the stranger's face, Kyungsoo would have thought him haughty.  
  
"Sorry to bother you." Mr. Model clears his throat. "It's just that I don't know anyone at this party, so I'm trying to make myself scarce."  
  
"Join the club," Kyungsoo says, softening.  
  
The newcomer beams. He plops down onto the two-seater sofa that Kyungsoo is occupying and immediately extends his hand.  
  
"I'm Yifan."  
  
"Kyungsoo."  
  
"Nice to meet you. God, this place is insane." Yifan sweeps his gaze over their surroundings, exhaling in a quick stream.  
  
Kyungsoo nods in agreement. They're in the mansion of a famous film director--white marble and European furniture, manicured lawns lit emerald green from the cathedral-worthy windows. There are chandeliers hanging over their heads, intimidating rugs beneath their feet, and everything in between speaks of luxury.  
  
But that's not what makes this party "insane," as Yifan pegged it. No, it's the people. Actors, singers, TV hosts, comedians, supermodels, athletes--you name it, they're here. Everyone is beautiful or brawny or hysterical or scintillating, or a combination of the four. Everyone is talking at the same time, sloshing their drinks as they gesticulate, then tossing them back like they're numb to the burn. Everyone is bumping into servers or other famous people, the first nudge setting off a domino effect in the crowd. Everyone is screaming over each other's heads when they see their friends arrive. There is a lot of sloppy dancing. A lot of scandalous necking. A lot of stupefying noise.  
  
Kyungsoo hasn't seen Jongin in an hour and a half.  
  
It wasn't so bad when they first got here. Jongin had sat them both down by the windows, whispering secrets about the people coming in. It was just the way it was when they were on their own; Kyungsoo issuing soft laughter and Jongin trying for more. It was nice, actually, really nice. But then Jongin'd gone to the washroom, and it was like a spell had been broken.  
  
The last time Kyungsoo had caught a glimpse of him, Jongin was deep in the jostling throng--the arm of a dark-haired guy slung around his waist as a gaggle of girls amused them with a story.  
  
So Kyungsoo found this couch, half in shadows, its high back turned to the revelry. He'd been thinking of calling a cab when Yifan arrived and distracted him.  
  
Almost abruptly, Kyungsoo asks, "What do you do?"  
  
"I just started acting," Yifan replies, "but most days I'm a model." Kyungsoo ticks that invisible box in his head.  
  
Mr. Model regards him curiously. "You're an idol?"  
  
Kyungsoo wasn't expecting that, and he chuckles half-heartedly. "Nope."  
  
"Actor, then?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Oh, I know, you're a--"  
  
"Civilian," Kyungsoo finally supplies. "Just a nobody."  
  
Yifan actually looks shocked. "Really?" He purses his lips and tugs self-consciously at his dirty-blonde hair. "I could have sworn you were in the business."  
  
"Why?" Kyungsoo asks, astonished.  
  
"You're so cute."  
  
Kyungsoo doesn't laugh this time--only twists his mouth into the shape of disbelief and lets his eyebrows shoot into his bangs.  
  
"I'm serious!" It's Yifan who cracks up now. "You look famous!"  
  
"Thanks…I guess?"  
  
"You're welcome. Please take it as a compliment." When Yifan smiles at him, Kyungsoo is side-tracked by the flirtation in it. "Are you here with anyone?"  
  
"A friend," Kyungsoo tells him, as mildly as he can manage. "But I lost him, so I think I'm going to head out."  
  
"Can I come?" Yifan asks, more endearing than anything else. "I don't really fit in here."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Yifan never gets his answer, though, because a guy comes out of nowhere and grabs him by the back of his shirt.  
  
"There you are!"  
  
The model practically jumps out of his loafers. "Shit, Joonmyun, you scared the crap out of me!"  
  
"We're supposed to be networking for you here!" huffs the shorter man, hauling Yifan up and very quickly away. "What the hell are you doing, hiding in a corner?"  
  
Kyungsoo just stares.  
  
Somehow, Yifan manages to look over his shoulder and mouth the words  _sorry_ and  _manager_ and  _bye_. Kyungsoo nods in understanding. "Bye," he replies aloud, with a loose wave.  
  
And then.  
  
"Kyungsoo."  
  
He knows who it is, but he turns anyway. "Hey, Jongin."  
  
"Found you."  
  
Jongin's face is cloaked in worry and guilt. Something else, too--a little dark, a little injured.  
  
"You found me," Kyungsoo bounces back, trying not to sound frustrated.  
  
The actor's words come out in a rush. "I'm sorry I left you all alone. I'm  _really_ sorry. I didn't mean to. I got ambushed by a few sunbaes on the way out of the bathroom, and that led to another and another and  _another_ , and by the time I got back to our spot you weren't there. I tried to--I looked everywhere. In here, out in the garden, I even went back to the car. Thought you might have left."  
  
"I was about to," Kyungsoo murmurs.  
  
"Were you?" Jongin shuts his eyes. "I'm really sorry."  
  
"How'd you know I was here?"  
  
Jongin opens his eyes. "I saw that guy's head peeking over the sofa." The look on his face is so peculiar. "I figured it was a good place for someone to hide. Not that you were hiding--"  
  
"You got me," Kyungsoo interrupts. "I was definitely hiding."  
  
"I'm really sorry," Jongin says again. "Are you angry?"  
  
"No." _I'm exhausted._  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah."  _No._  
  
"That was Wu Yifan, wasn't it?"  
  
"…What?"  
  
"The guy who was just here." Jongin swallows, lowering his eyes. "That was Wu Yifan."  
  
"I…think so? I didn't get his last name. Why?"  
  
"No reason." Jongin's tone suddenly turns joking. "They say he's going to be the next Kim Woo Bin. My manager told me to watch out."  
  
"I see."  
  
Kyungsoo doesn't know who Kim Woo Bin is, or what it means for Yifan to be next in line to him, but he doesn't feel like asking. He puzzles over the expression on Jongin's face, which has never been there before--at least, not around him.  
  
"What were you guys talking about?" Jongin asks, picking at the fabric of the sofa.  
  
"Not much." Kyungsoo shrugs. "He said he felt like he didn't fit in. We had that in common."  
  
Jongin voice is soft, undemanding. "Do you want to ditch this party?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
"Should we go to Gianni's?"  
  
Kyungsoo shakes his head. "If it's okay with you, I'd just like to go home."  
  
Jongin keeps his expression neutral, so Kyungsoo's not sure if he's disappointed. When the movie star says, "Of course. No problem," the bookstore owner just takes it at face value.  
  
  
  
  
In Jongin's car, it's peaceful and dim, and Kyungsoo can feel his mind clearing at last. He rests his head against the window, the vibrations of the running machine like a lullaby.  
  
"Jongin?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I saw you earlier with some people. Three blondes and a guy with black hair."  
  
"Three blondes...what, you saw that? Why didn't you come over?"  
  
"You were really far away," Kyungsoo excuses himself. "Are they your friends?"  
  
Jongin sighs. "Two of those girls were love interests in my other movies, and one of them played my sister in a drama. And the guy…that was my ex."  
  
"The ballet dancer?"  
  
"Not Taemin," Jongin says. "That was Lu Han. The last one."  
  
"Ah," Kyungsoo murmurs, his throat suddenly tight. "Did you guys patch things up?"  
  
"What? Oh, we were just…" Jongin pauses. "The thing is…" He tries again. "Yes, we did. But it's not…it's complicated."  
  
"That's good." The words  _you knew this was coming_  skate across Kyungsoo's tongue, unbidden. But he is cool and casual, like always. "Really, that's great."  
  
"Kyungsoo." Jongin stares at him, and there's that look again--foreign and indecipherable.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"It's nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

Kyungsoo doesn't hear from Jongin the following day, or two days after, or seven. By the time the next weekend rolls around, he's worried he might have said or done something to offend the movie star. Had he been too cold and dismissive when Jongin'd finally shown up? Was it that he'd asked Jongin to leave a party packed with his friends and cut his night short? Or that he'd been caught talking to friendly Wu Yifan, the apparent competition?  
  
Maybe Jongin had simply realized that Kyungsoo was too uptight, too ordinary, too  _boring_ , to continue spending time with.  
  
That last thought makes his surroundings dim a little, like a light bulb in the bookstore has burned out. Because it's only been a week, but that's all it takes for Kyungsoo to realize he's in love.  
  
He can't believe it.  
  
The photos from the party take social media by storm. Yes, Kyungsoo checks. He sees Jongin in over half the shots--candid in most, impossible to ignore in all. He finally puts a face to Lu Han, the famous not-quite-ex. The Chinese actor is tall and debonair, and quite frankly, stunning. Wikipedia reveals he's been voted China's Sexiest Man of the Year two years in a row, and that his latest film,  _Hong Kong, Wo Ai Ni,_  is already getting Hollywood buzz.  
  
Kyungsoo looks around the bookstore. Mr. Jang is thumbing through  _The Catcher in the Rye_  by the shelf marked "S" and Mrs. Woo is wavering between two novels by Elizabeth Gaskell. Through the store window, he can see a plump dachshund on a red lead taking a crap on the sidewalk. He feels very, very small.  
  
That's not where it ends, though. The utter surprise is that Kyungsoo actually shows up in two of the photos, both taken without his knowledge.  
  
In the first, he sits with Jongin by the windows, the two of them smiling at each other. The caption reads, "Kai Kim and friend."  
  
In the second, he is caught in the background of a girl group photo, his face in profile but unmistakeable. He is alone this time, and he looks nervous. There is no mention of him in the caption.  
  
Jongdae and Baekhyun scream at him over the phone.  
  
"Why the fuck are you in these celebrity party pics on Twitter--with Kai Kim?!" That's Baekhyun.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us you were still sleeping with him?!" That's Jongdae.  
  
"I'm not--we haven't done anything," Kyungsoo answers weakly. "We're just friends."  
  
"Uh, yes, you have." That's Baekhyun. "Friends, my  _ass_."  
  
"Look at the way you're staring at each other. Three hundred percent undistilled sexual tension." That's Jongdae.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Baekhyun, again.  
  
"Nothing's going on," Kyungsoo says, hardening his heart. "We're not even friends, really. I don't know why I said that. It's more like…I think he likes to feel normal once in a while. So he hangs out with me."  
  
"Your face in this photo doesn't say this is a 'once in a while' thing," Jongdae retorts drily. "How long have you been seeing him?"  
  
"I'm not seeing him."  
  
"Semantics," Baekhyun shoots back. "How long?"  
  
"You guys, I'm really not."  
  
The screaming starts up again. " _The fuck_ \--just answer the question, Kyungsoo! We haven't seen you in centuries and all the while you've been doing Kai Kim and going to famous people's parties and keeping your budding sex god status from your _best friends in the entire world_ \--like, who does that?!" And it goes on.  
  
So he tells them everything, over the line, if only to make the noise stop.  
  
  
  
  
Now, Kyungsoo wishes he'd kept his mouth shut--just sucked it up and let them whine until they ran out of breath. But alas, it's already Thursday afternoon, and the ultimatum hangs over his head like a guillotine.  
  
"We want to meet him," Jongdae had said.  
  
"The fact that he's Kai Kim means nothing," Baekhyun had added. "We want to know if he's worthy of our little monk."  
  
Exasperation pooled at Kyungsoo's temples. "For the last time. We're. Not. Dating,"  
  
"That's what you think," his friends had declared in unison. "Dinner next Friday. Eight o'clock. Bring the movie star or else." The fact that they'd hung up on him immediately after meant that there would be hell to pay if Kyungsoo flaked.  
  
That's how he finds himself pacing around the bookstore, smartphone in hand, trying to summon up the courage to give Jongin a call.  
  
He's been putting it off every day since he's spoken with his friends--but truthfully, he's dying for an excuse to reach out. Two weeks of radio silence wouldn't seem so bad to the average working adult, but Kyungsoo has been conditioned to expect hourly text messages, calls every other day, and visits just as often.  
  
_Fuck._ He steels himself.  _Fine. Fuck!_  
  
He taps the green call button next to Jongin's number.  
  
The line rings.  
  
Six times.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Kyungsoo's free hand clenches into a fist. His fingernails dig into the smooth skin of his palm, pressing in deeper as the nerves take hold. "H-hello?"  
  
"Kyungsoo?"  
  
The bookstore owner exhales silently. "Hey, Jongin. How are you?"  
  
"Hey," the actor says, clearly surprised. "I--I'm sorry I've been MIA. I've been busy. With work."  
  
"Oh, no, I understand." Kyungsoo is already folding up, backing out. "I shouldn't have called without checking if you were free. I'll call back some other time."  
  
"No, don't," Jongin cuts in quickly. "This is the first time you've--" He stops in mid-sentence. "I mean, I'm free right now. What's up?"  
  
If this is the only opening Kyungsoo's going to get, he's going to take it. "Well, my friends and I are having dinner tomorrow. No big deal. We're going to our secret samgyeopsal place--it's this hole-in-the-wall, really quiet. I just wanted to ask if… you'd like to come? But if you're busy, it's fine, I know it's really short notice."  
  
"I'd like to come," Jongin says.  
  
The feeling that surges through Kyungsoo is halved by relief and anxiety. "Okay. Okay, great."  
  
He gives Jongin the address of the restaurant and the time they're all meeting up, and Jongin murmurs in the affirmative--"Okay," and "Uh-huh," and "Got it."  
  
Before they hang up, he says, "See you tomorrow." There's a lilt at the very end that makes it sound like a question.  
  
"Yeah," Kyungsoo answers. "See you."  He only mouths the rest once he's ended the call.  _Can't wait._  
  
  
  
  
They arrive at the same time, bumping into each other at the entrance of the barbecue place. It's awkward. The expectant look on Jongin's face is seasoned with caution, and Kyungsoo has to blink a couple of times before making eye contact because he's so tense. They trade shy hellos.  
  
Jongin licks the corner of his mouth, and it eases into a smile. "Long time no see."  
  
Kyungsoo can feel himself melting from his knees to his ankles. He extends his fingers to touch Jongin on the arm. "Come meet my friends."  
  
For all their previous bluster, Baekhyun and Jongdae are rendered completely starstruck. They bow several times when they are introduced to Jongin, as if they are greeting a work superior. When everybody sits down, they remain stiff and formal, backs straight and hands crossed over their laps. They take special pains not to slip into banmal.  
  
"What the hell," Kyungsoo chides them. "Act like you always do. He's our age."  
  
"This is just like the time I met Yoona's friends when we were dating," Jongin muses. Kyungsoo notes the two pairs of widening eyes and is grateful his friends latch onto the top actress' name, instead of that last part. But that means he alone bears the brunt of it, and it filters pink through the apples of his cheeks.  
  
Baekhyun gushes, " _Im Yoona?_  Shit, she's hot."  
  
"So it was true all along!" Jongdae cries. "Your management put up such a front, saying you were just friends and all that jazz."  
  
"That's because she was doing my management on the side," Jongin tells him cheerfully, and that completely breaks the ice.  
  
Just an hour later, Jongdae and Baekhyun can't get enough of the movie star. They ply him with lettuce wraps they piece together with their own hands and offer close to his lips. He obliges them, opening wide. Kyungsoo admires the way he tells each of his stories, with confidence and an unstudied ease. He likes how Jongin manages to be open yet discreet, how he navigates around full-on kiss-and-tell mode while successfully humoring his friends.  
  
They fall all over themselves to pour Jongin a drink, refilling the shot glass every time he downs its contents. Kyungsoo matches him for every one. He's not sure if it's just the soju playing tricks on him when he hears the "Jongin-ah."  
  
Jongdae's the one who starts it, of course. "Jongin-ahhh," he croons. "What do you like most about our Kyungsoo?"  
  
"Tell us everything," Baekhyun chimes in. He gestures to Kyungsoo scornfully. "Asking this one for intel is like drawing blood from a stone."  
  
Kyungsoo stares him down into a puddle, but Jongin just laughs. He's enjoying himself. "Really? What were you guys asking about?"  
  
"You two." Jongdae's eyes are twinkling. "He says you're just friends."  
  
Kyungsoo panics. "They're drunk, ignore them."  
  
" _You're_  drunk," Jongdae teases.  
  
Naturally, Jongin's answer is diplomatic. "We're very good friends," he says, casting a look of familiarity in the bookstore owner's direction. "Kyungsoo's the coolest person I know. That's why I stick to him all the time--I want it to rub off on me."  
  
"What," Kyungsoo mutters, the embarrassment a pox upon his pale face. "You make huge movies for a living. People keel over when they see you on the sidewalk."  
  
"And you're still cooler than me." Jongin smiles at him. His face is so, so soft. "How do you do it?"  
  
"Aww," Jongdae and Baekhyun crow in unison. "Is this the mutual admiration club?" quips the first. "Can we join?" adds the second.  
  
The movie star chuckles, taking the soju bottle between his hands to pour them each another shot. Kyungsoo uses the interlude to still the charm of hummingbirds in his chest.  
  
  
  
  
By the time dinner wraps up, there are two people swaying on their feet. Not Baekhyun and Jongdae, though--they've stayed impressively sober all evening. They smirk at each other knowingly, pushing Kyungsoo into the first taxi that stops in front of the samgyeopsal joint and nudging Jongin in after him with merry farewells.  
  
They've been slinging back shots at breakneck speed. Jongin, out of politeness; Kyungsoo, for liquid courage.  
  
Kyungsoo gives the cabbie his address to punch into the GPS. He leans into the seat, dizzy, and turns completely on his side to face Jongin. "You didn't drive?"  
  
"No," Jongin susurrates. "My manager dropped me off."  
  
"Do you want to drop by my place?" Kyungsoo asks out of nowhere. He keeps count of the seconds it takes for Jongin to answer: a slow and agonizing seven. Jongin hasn't brought up Lu Han all night, and Kyungsoo doesn't have the heart to ask.  
  
"Okay," Jongin says. The remembering prickles over Kyungsoo's skin. All the details of their first meeting are vaguely in order, except everything is the other way around.  
  
Kyungsoo tells the cabbie, "Just one stop, ahjusshi."  
  
  
  
  
It starts the moment Kyungsoo shuts his front door behind him. Jongin doesn't even bother toeing off his shoes, much less leaving the foyer where Kyungsoo's footwear is arranged in neat rows. He just grabs the bookstore owner by the front of his sweater, pushes him firmly against the door, and locks their open mouths together.  
  
Kyungsoo is startled, but he reciprocates instantly. His fingers press into the small of Jongin's back, between his jacket and his T-shirt.  
  
Kyungsoo hasn't kissed a lot of people, not by any standard. But when Jongin captures his lips with luxurious pressure and licks into his mouth on an exhale, Kyungsoo knows he's never had better. Jongin tastes like soju and sugar, strong and sweet. His palm is pressed possessively over Kyungsoo's abdomen, and everything feels delicious.  
  
"Are we going to do this again?" Jongin manages to get out through an endless kiss.  
  
"If you like," Kyungsoo answers, even as their tongues dance. The liquor has stripped him of his natural reserve.  
  
"I want you."  
  
"I want you, too."  
  
"So you're okay with this?"  
  
A smile threatens at the corner of Kyungsoo's mouth. It amuses him, how the actor treats him like fine china right after manhandling him into a doorframe. At the same time, he's breathless with anticipation--and something more. "It's sex, Jongin," he replies, purposely light so he doesn't give himself away. "It's okay."  
  
Before he knows what's happening, things come to a screeching halt.  
  
Jongin's lips freeze over the hinge of Kyungsoo's jaw. He draws back abruptly, eyes drilling into the other's.  
  
It dawns on Kyungsoo that the expression he could never quite make out is this one, right here. It's with a sense of alarm that he is able to distinguish it, finally.  _Torn_ \--Jongin looks painfully torn.  
  
"What is it?" Kyungsoo asks carefully.  
  
"It's nothing." Jongin is still staring at him, but it's almost like he's talking to himself. "This. It's nothing. Right?"  
  
Dread raises its hackles along Kyungsoo's spine. "I don't understand…"  
  
Jongin uncurls his fingers from the material of Kyungsoo's clothing and shifts his gaze away. Kyungsoo remains under his hands, but they're not touching anymore.  
  
Then, the movie star steps out of his space completely. "Yeah…I think I'm gonna go."  
  
"Right now?"  
  
Jongin nods, just once. "I don't think we should do this anymore."  
  
The silence is brief, but it already stings when Kyungsoo next speaks. "Is it Lu Han?"  
  
The half-laugh rings with bitterness in his ears. "You remember his name?"  
  
"I remember everything you tell me," Kyungsoo says quietly.  
  
Something flits across Jongin's face. "I can't read you," he mutters. "I don't know what goes on inside your head."  
  
_Tell him,_  Kyungsoo wills himself. _Just tell him everything!_  
  
Jongin's hand is already turning the handle on the door. "Bye," he says. "Thanks for letting me meet your friends."  
  
_He's leaving!_ Kyungsoo's subconscious screams at him.  _Say it now!_  
  
But the old Kyungsoo is creeping back, and the flash of boldness from before has cooled into a timid ember.  
  
So he doesn't say it.  
  
Instead, he cops out. "Goodnight." He grimaces the moment the word leaves his lips. "When will I…are you free any time soon?"  
  
"I don't know." Jongin studies the ground, the door cracked halfway open. "I've got my hands full with the movie."  
  
Kyungsoo deflates. "Right. Right. Of course you do." He gives Jongin more space, tries to smile when Jongin offers him a second  _bye_ , and watches Jongin exit in one seamless movement.  
  
The apartment has never felt so empty.  
  
  
  
  
On Saturday, Kyungsoo stays in bed, combs over every little detail, regrets his cowardice, and tugs the covers over his head.  
  
On Sunday, Baekhyun and Jongdae put him in clean clothes and take him to the diner.  
  
"What happened?" Jongdae asks, concerned. "It was going so well."  
  
"I choked," Kyungsoo mumbles. "But before that, I don't know what went wrong."  
  
Baekhyun is baffled. "Do you really think he and Lu Han are back together?" He twists his mouth. "I just can't believe that, considering the way he looks at you."  
  
Kyungsoo decides to embrace his masochistic side. "How does he look at me?"  
  
"I dunno, like you're something rare, or something."  
  
It hurts.  
  
"It's different from the way you look at him," Jongdae shares, wrapping an arm over Kyungsoo's shoulder. "With you, there's this fear--like you're really, really into it, but you're afraid of it, too."  
  
"It?"  
  
"The possibility," Jongdae explains, "that he might actually like you back."  
  
"He doesn't. I don't think he does. I don't know," Kyungsoo groans. He is brimming with questions and unresolved feelings, and his heart's a little broken. "I don't think he wants to see me anymore."  
  
He puts his forehead on the table, and Baekhyun strokes his hair comfortingly.  
  
"Don't give up, dude," Baekhyun clucks. "Just wait it out and see." His voice is so uncharacteristically tender that Kyungsoo replaces his forehead with his cheek, staring up at his friend.  
  
Baekhyun rewards him with a look that's equally sage and comical. "Patience," he whispers. "That's how I get all the honeys."  
  
  
  
  
But it seems Baekhyun has also gotten all the luck. Six months later, Kyungsoo is still waiting.  
  
He'd had taken things into his own hands early on, sending a text message to the movie star.  
  
_Hey, Jongin, are you busy this week? Let's have dinner at Gianni's? My treat._  
  
That was Week Two. He still hasn't gotten an answer when Week Twenty rolls around.  
  
On Week Four, he plucks up the nerve to call. The line rings and rings and rings and rings and rings. He tries again on Week Five, and makes a last-ditch effort on Week Twelve. The busy tone always takes over, rude in its rejection.  
  
Kyungsoo imagines this is the way famous people give you the brush-off. They drop off the map, and you're left to find your own way back to the life you had before you met them. Except the Kyungsoo of today watches television, flipping through the entertainment channels to catch even a snippet of Jongin. His movie is buzzy, so the actor turns up everywhere--heartbreakingly handsome, distant, unavailable.  
  
It's not that Kyungsoo deteriorates. Not at all. He still gets to work on the dot, still trawls the online market for titles to carry at Do Specialty Books. He takes his meals at all the right times, pays his bills, combs his hair.  
  
But anyone who's known him long enough can tell something is wrong.  
  
Mr. Jang asks if he would like to go out with his daughter sometime. Mrs. Woo asks if he would like to go out with her son. Kyungsoo declines as sweetly as he can, and gives them both a discount.  
  
Accents wonky, the foreign girls put up cute fists and whisper, "Kyungsoo-sshi, fighting!" The redhead pecks him on the forehead when he's wrapping up her purchases and runs out with her cheeks flaming between her hands.  
  
The elderly couple that comes in every Wednesday starts to ply him with food: fresh fruit and warm bread in brown paper bags, homemade side dishes in Tupperware. "Cheer up, boy," the grandpa grunts out. The grandma tut-tuts. "You poor thing. Who was it?"  
  
Jongdae and Baekhyun are embarrassingly gentle with him. They quit tricking him into their weekend bar crawls and buy DVDs to watch instead. When they pile into his apartment, they bring fried chicken and icy beer. Nobody mentions the name Jongin.  
  
  
  
  
One day, Kyungsoo gets a message from an unregistered number.  
  
_Hi Kyungsoo! It's Wu Yifan. Remember the awkward tall guy from Wang PD's party? :P_  
  
Kyungsoo texts back:  _Hey, Yifan. I remember. How'd you get my number?_  
  
Another message pings not long after.  
  
_Kai Kim :P He was your missing friend? Saw a photo of you two on Twitter a few months ago._  
  
Kyungsoo almost drops his phone as he frantically types:  _You're with him right now?_  
  
The reply can't come fast enough.  
  
_Nah, that was yesterday :P We shot a CF together. He said you hung out a lot when he was filming in Changdeokgung? And you own a bookstore! That's awesome._  
  
Kyungsoo types:  _Yeah, I do, thanks. He finished the movie?_  
  
_I think so. He didn't tell you?_  Yifan texts back.  _Which reminds me, what are you doing tomorrow? I'll be in your area :D_  
  
The excuse Kyungsoo comes up with is a blatant lie.  _Work is crazy right now...sorry, Yifan._  
  
_It's cool,_ the guy replies. But he doesn't let Kyungsoo off the hook.  _Maybe next time? I promise to make it a fun date._  
  
It's light and sweet, absolutely no pressure. Still, Kyungsoo can't find it in him to respond. He turns off his phone for the rest of the day, unable to get the soft, soft expressions of Jongin's face out of his head.  
  
  
  
  
When the premiere of top star Kai Kim's new film is announced, Kyungsoo doesn't have to think twice. He's going. He'll be one of those wide-eyed red carpet bystanders, ogling for a glimpse of Korea's most famous. He'll stand behind the barriers and wait for Jongin to come. He's been waiting half a year--what's a few more hours?  
  
He knows he's being ambitious, but maybe, just maybe, he'll catch Jongin alone, and Kyungsoo will finally get to explain himself.  
  
Third time's the charm, right?  
  
(He's never believed in that saying, but it's all he's got.)  
  
On the day, Kyungsoo locks up Do Specialty Books at half past five so he can get to the venue early. But it's not early enough, apparently, because the place is already crawling with people. Paparazzi and fans crowd in front of the glamorous theater, fiddling with Pinocchio-nosed DSLRs. The red carpet is just that, a red carpet, without the celebrities gliding over it, and the sectioned-off areas are filled with a restless din.  
  
Kyungsoo swallows down his unease and clutches the simple bouquet in his hands even tighter.  
  
The first star to arrive is Yoona, regal in a shimmering cascade of a gown. She looks exactly the way she does in her advertisements--perfect. Kyungsoo tries not to think about her kissing Jongin with her pretty pink mouth.  
  
Next is the dashing Kim Minseok, the older actor who plays Yoona's jilted husband in the film. The crowd adores him, and their screams say just how much.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn't think it's possible for this place to get any louder. He's already nursing a migraine from the sheer force of sound. But it  _does_ get louder--it practically erupts--when Kai Kim steps onto the carpet.  
  
He's in a dark blue suit. His hair is swooped and tousled. His skin glows in the light, and his smile is devastating.  
  
It's been so long, and Kyungsoo falls in love all over again, the sensation bittersweet.  
  
"Kai!" The screams of the fans envelop him, dense and deafening. " _Kai!_ "  
  
There's someone else on the carpet, right behind Jongin--someone tall and lean, with broad shoulders and black hair.  
  
"Oh, my  _God_ ," wails the teenage girl next to Kyungsoo. " _Lu Han-oppa!_ "  
  
The girl's cry sends an electrified ripple through the rest of crowd. Soon, Kyungsoo can't distinguish the  _Kais_ from the  _Lu Hans_ , especially when the two actors begin to make their way to the fan section. A PR girl shoves a pair of Sharpies into Jongin's hand. He dips his head in thanks, handing one of the markers to Lu Han.  
  
Autographs. Kyungsoo forgot about the autographs.  
  
For several minutes, the movie star stands directly in front of him, scribbling "Kai Kim" into the notepads and DVDs thrust forth by the crowd.  
  
Their eyes meet briefly. Jongin blinks away--and back again. Recognition blends with disbelief in the slight parting of his lips.  
  
Kyungsoo tries to smile, but finds he cannot. Not with Lu Han standing so close by.  
  
"You're here," Jongin says, his tone flat and celebrity-polite. Kyungsoo winces.  
  
Lu Han glances up from a poster he's just signed and regards Kyungsoo with curiosity. "Who's this, Jongin-ah?"  
  
Kyungsoo thinks he sees Jongin flinch, but that just might be a trick of the light.  _Of course they're on a real-name basis,_  he tells himself.  _Why wouldn't they be._  
  
"Friend of yours?" Lu Han presses. He grins at the girl next to Kyungsoo as he hands back her poster. She swoons.  
  
Jongin still doesn't reply. He only presses his lips together in a tight crescent and drops his eyes, reaching for other things to sign.  
  
"I'm," Kyungsoo stammers. "I'm just a fan."  
  
Jongin  _definitely_ flinches this time. What semblance of a smile he had on his face is completely gone. When he raises his eyes, they communicate distress.  
  
The fangirl from before has recouped her senses. She picks up on the strange atmosphere, judging Kyungsoo with suspicion. "You're not a sasaeng are you, ahjusshi? Please don't make Jonginnie-oppa uncomfortable."  
  
Lu Han's gorgeous face loses a bit of its candor. Kyungsoo doesn't miss the way he angles himself ever-so-slightly in front of Jongin.  
  
"No--" Jongin starts to say, holding up a hand.  
  
"I'm sorry," Kyungsoo ekes out. He pushes back into the crowd--back, back, back--until there's a good number of people between him and Jongin. Then he turns and hightails it out of there, the bouquet tattered in his grip.  
  
He vaguely hears a "Wait," but doesn't stop walking.  
  
  
  
  
When Kyungsoo gets to the trash bins outside his apartment building, he takes the bouquet apart. He puts the flowers in the perishable pile, the plastic sheath in the non-perishable pile, and the silk ribbon in the recycle bin.  
  
He ignores the insistent buzzing of his phone, because he's not ready to tell Baekhyun and Jongdae that it's really, really over now. He just climbs into bed in his smart new clothes and shuts his eyes.  
  
  
  
  
The next day is a Wednesday, so he can't sleep in like he wants to.  
  
"Get up," he says aloud. His body obliges. "Thanks," he tells his body.  
  
He chucks the clothes he slept in into the laundry basket and takes a shower. He swallows down some cereal and a coffee and brushes the debris from his teeth. He climbs into old jeans and a black shirt that says "Keep Calm and Read On." He tells himself that's exactly how he's going to get through the rest of the day. Week. Year.  
  
When he takes the train, the day is radiant and oblivious through the windows, and Kyungsoo wishes he had sunglasses to protect his heart.  
  
He hops out four stops later, and from there it's only a few minutes' walk to Do Specialty Books. Kyungsoo drags it out, loitering by shops that have yet to open, perusing the items on display without any real interest. It's almost eight o'clock, and the elderly couple will be shuffling in before nine, but he really doesn't feel like going to work today.  
  
When he rounds the corner of the pottery studio, he isn't expecting to see the suave bronze sedan parked illegally in front of his bookstore.  
  
Jongin steps out of the driver's seat. His long strides cover the distance between them easily. When he gets to the spot where Kyungsoo has stalled, Jongin reaches for his hand.  
  
On instinct, Kyungsoo jerks away. But it doesn't seem to bother the movie star--he just locks his fingers over Kyungsoo's thin wrist and pulls him to the car.  
  
"Get in," Jongin says, gently but resolutely.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn't budge.  
  
"Please, Kyungsoo." The expression on Jongin's face is the softest it's ever been.  
  
The bookstore owner can't help the way he buckles, the way he opens the door and slides into the passenger seat without a fuss.  
  
Jongin's beside him in a hot minute. "Let's go someplace we can talk," he says, before putting the car into drive.  
  
They don't speak on the way. There is only a meaningful silence that swells palpably inside the vehicle, wedging them apart.  
  
  
  
  
Someplace turns out to be Jongin's residence--the penthouse suite in an elegant Gangnam high-rise. The floor-to-ceiling windows and arty, modern furniture would intimidate Kyungsoo if he wasn't so preoccupied with whatever is going to happen next.  
  
They kick off their shoes and Jongin leads the way to the living room, where Kyungsoo does not sit down. He stops next to a chair upholstered in gray suede, twisting his fingers together.  
  
Jongin doesn't sit down, either. He trains his gaze on Kyungsoo and wets his chapped lips with his tongue. He looks terrified.  
  
Slowly, he asks, "Do you have a boyfriend?"  
  
Kyungsoo balks. "Huh?"  
  
Jongin repeats, with more conviction this time, "Do you have a boyfriend?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Neither do I." Hope and apprehension halve Jongin's countenance. "Did you think I did?"  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
"Well, I don't." Jongin licks his lips again. "Why did you come to the premiere yesterday?"  
  
But Kyungsoo has his own questions to ask. "What about Lu Han?"  
  
"What  _about_ Lu Han?" Jongin snaps out of turn. He lowers his voice, looking contrite. "I told you we broke up. We were already broken up before I met you. You know that."  
  
"But you patched things up at that party," Kyungsoo insists quietly. "You told me."  
  
"God, is  _that_ why--" Jongin exclaims, but a frustrated sound leaves his throat before he can finish. "We patched things up as  _friends_. No more hard feelings, no more avoiding each other at events. But we didn't get back together or start dating again or fooling around or whatever it is you thought I was doing with him." Here, Jongin's voice shakes. "If you were thinking about me at all."  
  
"Jongin," Kyungsoo ventures, his emotions in a jumble, "you said things were complicated. I didn't know what to think."  
  
"Kyungsoo," Jongin sighs, "I know. I know I did. But that was about  _you_."  
  
The ground practically shudders. "What?"  
  
"I just, I don't know how to read you."  
  
That sounds so familiar, especially since Kyungsoo could say the same.  
  
"Most of the time, I was sure you only wanted something casual. Just talk. Just sex. Just a friend." Jongin swallows. "But there were always these other times, these moments, and they really made me hope that wasn't the case."  
  
Kyungsoo stops twisting his fingers together.  
  
"You used to get this look sometimes, and I'd catch it, and you'd say these little things," Jongin continues, not quite coherent. "It messed me up so bad. I didn't know if you meant anything by it or if I was just feeding a fantasy."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"Why did you come to the premiere yesterday?" the movie star asks again. He takes a step closer. "Why did you come? Don't lie."  
  
Kyungsoo pushes down the knot in his throat as deep as it can go. "I came to see you."  
  
" _Why?_ "  
  
"I missed you." Kyungsoo bites his lip. "You disappeared on me."  
  
Jongin's face flickers. "I didn't think you'd notice."  
  
"How could I not?" Kyungsoo contradicts him. His face is bathed in heat. "I'm…really…into you."  
  
It's not just Jongin's expression that softens now. His shoulders sag, and his neck curves forward, and his mouth falls open on an exhale--the telltale signs of relief.  
  
Kyungsoo gazes at him, reproachful and lovesick. "I called you," he whispers. "But you wouldn't pick up."  
  
"I'm so sorry," Jongin says, and Kyungsoo's chest squeezes. "I was trying to sort out my feelings." He takes another step in Kyungsoo's direction, hands fidgeting at his sides. "That hasn't really worked out for me."  
  
Before Jongin gets to him and completely addles his senses, Kyungsoo needs to ask one more thing. It skims just above the hush. "So why did you take Lu Han to the premiere?"  
  
And Jongin can't resist--he breaks into a smile, and he's so, so beautiful that Kyungsoo trembles with longing.  
  
"I didn't 'take' him," the actor assures him. "We just carpooled! He lives in the building next door." He takes one final step towards Kyungsoo. They're so close, Kyungsoo can feel the delicate wisps of Jongin's breath on his eyelashes.  
  
"He had a cameo, you know, in the movie," Jongin discloses. "That's why he was there. Well, that and Minseok-hyung. They're pretty much inseparable now." Jongin searches his face. "You would have known that if you'd stayed to let me explain."  
  
Kyungsoo nods and fingers the sleeve of Jongin's T-shirt. It's his own step forward, in a way.  
  
"Six months, Jongin," he murmurs, knowing full well how poignant it is.  
  
"Won't you forgive me?" the other pleads, neck bowing in a measured descent. He's being so careful, so achingly slow. "You don't know how much I've missed you."  
  
"You should've answered my calls," Kyungsoo chides. He is hyperaware of Jongin's plush lips, clearing a path through the air to get to his. "You can't shut me out like that."  
  
"It won't happen again," Jongin says. "I promise."  
  
"And you gave Wu Yifan my number."  
  
"I was testing myself. To see if I would get jealous."  
  
Kyungsoo is leaning towards him now. "And did you?"  
  
"Yeah." Jongin glues his eyes to the bow of Kyungsoo's lips. His throat works silently. "I don't want you texting him, if that's okay."  
  
"Okay," Kyungsoo whispers back.  
  
Their mouths part and just barely graze.  
  
Jongin actually gulps.  
  
"Come on," Kyungsoo urges. "You can kiss me."  
  
When Jongin splays his fingers underneath his jaw, Kyungsoo holds fast to the dip of his waist, and they pull each other in.  
  
  
  
  
The sign on the door of Do Specialty Books reads "Closed" all day.  
  
  
  
  
This time, when Kyungsoo sleeps with the famous Kai Kim, he remembers every single second of it.  
  
They undress each other in broad daylight. They take their time, because they're both a little nervous. Jongin's mouth is damp and tender against his skin. Kyungsoo pays back every kiss by pressing his lips to the same place on Jongin's body. He relishes the scent of Jongin's neck, the smooth curve of his back, the way Jongin whispers, "You're the only one I want." Their mouths never separate for long. Kyungsoo wants to keep Jongin's lovely, lovely taste to himself--a mystery, a secret.  
  
Each time Jongin moves their hips together, and Kyungsoo sighs underneath him, spellbound, Jongin tells him he loves him.  
  
  
  
  
It's the movie star himself who outs them, two months later.  
  
He's doing publicity for the new drama he's working on--a pensive romance set in present-day. Kyungsoo has read through the script. It's basically the Korean reimagining of Jane Austen's  _Persuasion_.  
  
"You should do this," he'd mentioned in passing.  
  
"All right," Jongin had said, reaching over to play with his hair. "As long as you watch it."  
  
Kyungsoo will watch Jongin in anything nowadays.  
  
So, two months later, when Jongin texts him from the set and reminds him to watch  _Guerrilla Date_ , Kyungsoo is only happy to oblige.  
  
The interview is already underway when he gets to the right channel. "Tell us about your drama, Kai-sshi," the male host is saying.  
  
"It's based on a novel by Austen, the British author," Jongin informs him. "It's about two young people who love each other but are separated for a long time. And then they meet again, years later."  
  
"Why do they separate?" the host asks, voice pitched to absolute curiosity.  
  
"The family of the girl, who's played by Jung Eun-ji, persuades her to let go of the guy, and she listens," Jongin explains.  
  
"And the guy is your character," the host supplies.  
  
"Yes, exactly."  
  
The host gets a mischievous glint in his eye. "Has that ever happened to you in real life, Kai-sshi?" He nudges Jongin like an old chum. "You can tell us!"  
  
Jongin laughs, and Kyungsoo is pleased to see that he is amused, rather than annoyed. Even when Jongin is in Kai Kim mode, Kyungsoo can always tell the difference.  
  
"Nope," Jongin chirps, nudging the host right back. "None of my exes' families have tried to persuade them against me, hyung." The crowd around them hums in approval, some tittering.  
  
The host picks his answer apart. "If their families didn't, perhaps their friends did?" He's a cheeky one. "We know you've dated your fair share of Hallyu stars."  
  
Jongin takes it all in stride. "I know you know!" The crowd laughs appreciatively at his directness. "But to answer your question, the only kind of persuasion I've had a problem with in my relationships is the kind I inflicted on myself."  
  
The host is intrigued. "Can you elaborate on that?  
  
Casually, like he's discussing the weather, Jongin drops the bomb. "Well, you see, I'm in love with someone right now."  
  
The crowd issues a sharp, collective gasp. Someone sobs.  
  
Jongin plows straight through it. "But a few months ago, I was trying to convince myself not to feel that way."  
  
"Omo!" the host exclaims, clearly overwhelmed by this huge scoop. "You, uh, never fail to surprise us, Kai-sshi!"  
  
Jongin smirks, and Kyungsoo just wants to kiss it right off his face. He feels like he's dissolving into bubbles, because Jongin is talking about  _him_.  
  
"Uh, well, then," the host hesitates. "Is it too much to ask who you're in love with?"  
  
"Sorry, hyung." Jongin's tone is perfectly rueful. "I'd like to keep that private."  
  
The host backpedals, not wanting to push his luck. "I see, I see. We'll respect your wishes, Kai-sshi." Then he asks, "Will you at least tell us why you were second-guessing your feelings?" He peeks at Jongin uncertainly. "You did bring it up yourself…"  
  
"Sure," Jongin says, and the host is instantly reassured.  
  
Jongin stares straight into the camera, like he's locking eyes with Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo alone. "I didn't think they could love me as much as I loved them," he says. "But then I found out they loved me a little more than I thought. And that's enough for me."  
  
The women in the crowd swoon, and a few of the men exchange tiny, begrudging looks. The host congratulates him heartily and proceeds to the business of plugging the drama. All the while, Jongin steals glances at the camera, and he grins like he knows Kyungsoo is tuned in. It's all been pre-taped, of course, but that doesn't really matter.  
  
As soon as the segment is over, Kyungsoo makes a call.  
  
Jongin picks up on the first ring. "Hey, you."  
  
"I love you," Kyungsoo tells him without preamble.  
  
"I love you, too." There's a smile in Jongin's voice. "I really like it when you tell me."  
  
When Kyungsoo replies, it's with more happiness, more contentment, and more bright and shining affection than he's ever experienced in his life thus far.  
  
"I'll tell you every day," he says simply. "If that's enough for you."

**Author's Note:**

> Unintentionally inspired by _Notting Hill_.


End file.
